


Into your hands, I place my soul

by Afixxia



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Also through Dragon Age Inquisition, Angst, Background Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Complete trashing of canon timelines probably, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FenrisxOC won't be until much later, Halla - Freeform, Halla are adorable, Hawke is a nasty piece of work, Honestly I didn't look, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not sure how far through yet, Kidnapping, LGBTQ Themes, Lots of halla, M/M, Okay not as many halla as I would've liked, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Red Hawke, Slavery, Tevinter, Weird, Will add more tags as I go along, ZevranXWarden is background
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-18 05:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Afixxia/pseuds/Afixxia
Summary: "We are the Dalish: Keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path.We are the last Elvehn. Never again shall we submit."To Joel Lavellan, the Oath of the Dales was the heart of everything it meant to be Dalish. Striking a cord within him from the moment he first heard the stories, the words were at the forefront of his mind in every encounter.Now, stolen from his clan and sold into slavery, those words are all he has in a society that would deny him the right to exist.Sometimes words aren't nearly enough.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you will recognise Elric, my Dalish spirit healer, as the Hawke from Sickness of the Mind. He was always the father of my Inquisitor, Joel, but I decided to move him out of being Hawke while I was fitting things together. Kael is my Warden, he's a sword/shield warrior, and if you notice he doesn't say anything it's not because I've forgotten he's there (I do that sometimes) it's because he's mute. In fact if you do notice him saying something (I've done that before with another mute character) please let me know because he shouldn't be XD.  
> Begins early in the 3-year interval between Act 2 and Act 3 of Dragon Age 2, and certain events from Act 3 are happening throughout that interval, seeing as we don't actually get much of an idea of what Hawke's up to in those intervals but (s)he has to be doing something :/ don't get to stay Champion by lounging around. In this case, Merrill's Act 3 personal quest. Things will be happening in different orders, some things happening even after choices being made that perhaps wouldn't allow them to happen in the game. So just ... bear that in mind XD  
> Also, on harts. I can't find any confirmation of this anywhere, but I haven't looked very hard, but I have the idea in my head that harts are a Dalish thing? Both of the harts you get through war table operations (the Red Hart and the Royal Sixteen mount are received from Dalish clans, another is actually outright called the Pride of Arlathan, so if it's not outright said they're Dalish it's heavily implied) my headcanon is that you have to earn the right to ride one. The letter you get alongside the Red Hart certainly implies that it's an honour for it to be granted to the Herald/Inquisitor. Either way, that's why, for the moment, only Elric and Kael are riding harts. Also don't know if it's possible to have a black hart, just because there aren't any in-game doesn't mean it's not possible, shush.

The wind picked up briefly, bringing with it the soothing and familiar sounds of rustling leaves before dying down once more, and Joel paused, the grass soft beneath his bare feet, seeing the halla he had been searching for in the clearing ahead. Sylvannah had always been one of his favourites; he had been helping out at the halla pen the day she was born, and he knew that he would be sorry to leave her behind when the time came that afternoon. But Clan Sabrae was stranded and vulnerable without their halla, and Sylvannah was one of those selected to go to their aid.

"I'll miss you too, Sylvie," he murmured to her softly as she hesitantly approached him, still uneasy, and the young hunters' apprentice still had concerns over why she had bolted in the first place but tried not to think of them too much, lest his own unease scare her away again while he was trying to calm her. "but I'll come and visit you whenever I can, you know that." The halla pressed her velvet nose into the open palm he offered her, and his bronzed face broke into a bittersweet smile.

Guiding the halla quietly back to where his horse was waiting, Joel bit his lip as he considerd his options. While he could try to rejoin his father and the rest of the small herd just off the main road, it would probably be difficult to find them again. He disliked being alone so close to any Shem settlement, let alone one as large and volatile as Kirkwall, but it would be easier to go straight to the clan alone and await his companions there. 

Shaking off his growing distress, the teen clicked his tongue at his mare, gently guiding her into a turn, using the sun to guide his direction as he set out, Sylvannah keeping pace beside them now, whatever had bothered her before no longer having such an obvious hold over her mind.

The trees grew more scarce as they drew closer to the campsite on Sundermount, and he pressed on a little faster despite his dislike of being out in the open, wishing Keeper Marethari had found anywhere else for her clan to settle these past few years. He tried to shake himself out of it. The sooner Clan Sabrae had its halla the sooner they could leave, and any visits he made to their sister clan would hopefully no longer mean passing through such territory. 

As they came closer to the campsite, however, Sylvannah became more and more restless, until finally she bolted once more. Joel growled in frustration under his breath, leading his horse into a faster trot. The clan was just over the next ridge, he would explain to the hunters and go out with a small group rather than going alone again. 

The half-formed plan in his head vanished, his blood turned to ice, and he yanked hard on the reins, the horse letting out a sound of displeasure as she came to a sudden halt, horror fillinf his mind at what lay before him.

Joel didn't allow himself to look past the first three bodies before turning, urging his horse into a full gallop back the way they had come, unable to focus on anything beyond getting back to the small group he had rode out with. He had no idea if danger was still close but he needed to warn them, needed to know that they were all right.

He hadn't been riding for long when he saw the six halla coming down the road towards him, his father just ahead of them on his large black hart while Kael and his bonded, Zevran, brought up the rear. His father looked to him in confusion as he approached, concern filling his stormy grey eyes.

"Did you not find her?" he questioned, voice calm and measured as always. Joel shook his head quickly, more in an attempt to clear it enough to give a discernable response than in answer.

"The clan," he managed, breath catching in his throat, and it was only as the words came out choked that he realised he was crying, "the clan are all dead."

Shock crossed their faces, and he could see the horror on Kael's as he spurred his own hart on, taking off past them in the direction of the clan - _his_ clan, his family, his _world_ up until he had been taken away to join the Grey Wardens. Elric looked torn for a few moments before he tore after his cousin, yelling a 'stay here!' over his shoulder for his son.

Joel had no intention of going anywhere.

Images swam through his mind, unbidden, and, feeling a sudden urge he hastened to dismount, taking only a few struggling steps before the contents of his stomach made an appearance at the side of the road. Quiet footsteps approached, gentle fingers stroked his sweaty red hair back from where it had stuck to his tear-stained cheeks, a soothing hand stroking his back as Zevran cooed at him in something that was probably trade tongue but might as well have been his native Antivan for all the younger elf understood it, and he only vaguely considered through the blurry haze that his thoughts had become that he was grateful that the former Crow had elected to stay with him rather than chase after his lover, as he was sure had been the blonde's first instinct.

"Perhaps we should go and find Sylvannah?" Zevran suggested as he guided Joel, with all his shaking limbs, back over to his horse. "The halla will be all right here for a few minutes, and something to focus on will perhaps ease your mind somewhat. At least until the shock wears off," he helped the redhead up onto his horse once more and offered a small sad smile up at him, "we can't leave the lovely lady all on her own now can we?"

"All right," was all he managed after a short silence, sniffling quietly as the other elf returned to his own horse. But as they set off his heart wasn't really in it. He was still worried, of course, but right now he just wanted to go back to the clan, to hide away in his father's aravel and to never reemerge. 

By the time the pair had found Sylvannah and returned to the rest of the herd he couldn't help but feel relief as they saw their companions already there. Kael was covered in blood that, by the lack of the substance on his sword and shield, wasn't from fighting whoever was responsible, face paler than usual and grey eyes wide, hands clenched to fists on the reins and looking traumatised. Elric looked tired and worn in the way he did when he had been over-working his healing magic, eyes fixing on them as soon as they appeared before closing in a brief prayer of gratitude that they were both unharmed. 

Zevran went immediately to his husband's side, reaching out a gloved hand to touch his arm, and it took Kael a few seconds to register the contact at all. Finally he turned to him, and Zevran leaned across the gap between their two mounts in order to draw him into his arms, not uttering a word.

Joel wanted to go home, wanted to run away and forget that any of this had ever happened, but he knew there were probably things that had to be done, preparations for burials to be made, and-

His thoughts were cut off abruptly as his father clasped his hand in his own pale one, squeezing gently.

"I'll inform the Keeper of what happened here and make sure some hunters are sent out tonight to retrieve the bodies," he told him, reading him as easily as ever, "we can go home. You don't have to come back here."

Joel took in a deep, shuddering breath before pulling away from him, urging his horse quickly down the path that would lead to where their own clan was currently camped, and Elric's brow furrowed in concern as he watched his son leave, contorting the sharp black vallaslin of Dirthamen that so contrasted his pale skin and the scars that crisscrossed over the top of it, Zevran helping him to prepare the halla for travel (he'd had his doubts, but the former Crow was really going above and beyond, and he was grateful for his presence). Joel remained up ahead as they set out, needing time on his own, but always remaining in sight. Even so, Elric was worried. He was a wary person by nature, and he had his concerns about his son maintaining such distance when there were potential threats all around them. Some called him over-protective, but he preferred realistic. So few Dalish children made it to adulthood, and he had already lost a daughter before Joel had been born. The experience of losing a child was one that he refused to repeat. Let them call him overprotective. They could call him whatever they wanted, so long as his son was safe.

This, however, didn't feel safe.

He urged Banal'ras to quicken his steps, uneasy, and the large black hart complied easily. He respected that his son needed his space, but there was a feeling in the air that he knew better than to ignore. He only prayed this dark omen he was feeling was over what they had just discovered, and not another tragedy yet to come. His mana was completely depleted, drained from trying in vain to heal Ashalle, as she lay dying in Kael's arms. Creators help this 'Hawke' now, because there was no way Kael would ever forgive what she had done - he had never seen his cousin so willing to follow the vengeful path of Elgar'nan, whom had inspired his violet vallaslin.

In the road ahead, in sight but _too far away_ , (how could he have let this much distance come between them?) Joel stopped. Body tense, looking around anxiously. Something was wrong. The wind changed direction, and cold dread clutched Elric's heart like a vice. Something was _very wrong here_.

He took off at a gallop, seeing in the distance Joel turning back, racing back towards them, realisation striking that he wouldn't be able to get there in time, he was going to lose him, desperately trying to draw on mana that wasn't there, helpless to do anything but watch as magic exploded between them. A horse screamed. Zevran cried out somewhere behind him, his companions hastening to catch up as they realised what was happening. Going ful pelt but it was still minutes before he reached the place, and the smoke was just beginning to clear. The horse was dead, ripped apart by the force of the explosion, but Joel, where was Joel? His eyes roved over each bloody lump that was never intended to be seen outside of the body, trying to ascertain that each was too big, too thick, to have come from anything but the horse. There was no trace of Joel.

His son was gone, along with those who had taken him, as if they had never existed in the first place. No trail, no sign, no trace, no way of following.

Elric screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Contains graphic descriptions of slavery. I would just point out that this is a subject I know little about in a fictional setting and I have no intention of offending.

The pounding pain through his cranium was perhaps the first thing Joel noticed as he found himself slowly drawn into consciousness, the afterglow of fire on the backs of his eyelids, the aching pain through his body that came with being tied for a long period of time. Then came the heat, the humidity, the sounds and smell and feel of being surrounded by more people at once than he had seen in his life so far put together, people talking and laughing in a language he didn't even recognise, much less begin to understand. Pained cries, sobs, and screams cut through the jovial discussions far too frequently. 

It took him a while to draw enough courage to open his eyes. 

He barely had enough time to register that he was in a cage along with five other elves before a human face appeared in his vision, sneering as she hauled him to his feet, unsteady in his tight bindings, and dragged him over to a man sitting on a stool. She held him in place as the stranger ran his hands over his copper skin, over a lean muscled form born of long days learning to stalk his prey in a manner much resembling how he himself would feel over the creature he had just hunted in order to test the quality of the meat, dictating in strange words to another man stood nearby jotting things down for him, and he was made aware of his nudity for the first time. He refused these people the satisfaction of a response, choosing only to growl at the woman as she forced his mouth open and pressed a contraption into it to keep it that way as the man inspected his teeth, gums and tongue, the scars on his fingers making the reason for the device apparent. He tasted vile, blood and vomit, none of it his own. Clearly they didn't bother cleaning it between uses. The device was finally removed and he snapped his aching jaw shut with a clash of teeth, which he proceeded to bare threateningly at his tormentors. The man gestured to somebody behind him, who proceeded to reward him for his act of defiance with a sharp burning pain in the small of his back in the form of a brand, and he would later take as a small source of pride how he avoided letting out a loud scream of pain, if only barely. The Shems, at least, seemed disappointed, and that was good enough for him. 

"Qarinus," was all the man said, and Joel had no idea what the word meant but it seemed to be enough for the woman who had hold of him. As her companion returned to his stool, seemingly giving a few more notes to his scribe, the redhead was led away a few feet before being forced to his knees. He bit his lip to keep from whimpering as his hair was pulled roughly to keep him in place before it was steadily shaved off, and then he was dragged to his feet once more, and pushed towards a carriage. There were six others in there - three elves, two humans, and a dwarf woman who mumbled to herself in a language none of them could understand, rocking forward and backwards in her seat out of fear. Joel squeezed himself in opposite her and, apparently being the last one, a relief seeing as they could hardly fit in as it was, his rope bindings were removed and they were all shackled, and the carriage doors were swung shut behind them.

*****

For three days their group (ordinarily Joel would have considered it small, but now it was too big, too many people, too much) travelled in this manner. One of the men tried to strike up a conversation in the middle of the first day, in the same strange language as the humans who had taken them. Nobody understood what he was trying to say, and they were all a little more wary of him after that. The other human was a child, no more than eight or nine, who cried to herself frequently. Sat next to the dwarf, she would sometimes cease her own mutterings to coo at the child, holding her close and trying to comfort her best she could with no common language. When what little lighting available in the carriage allowed, Joel would make animal shapes out of shadows in the manner his father had done for him as a child in an effort to entertain her.

Of the elves, one bore the Dalish Vallaslin, in the form of Mythal's tree. She was about the same age as Elric, and pressed her back into her corner of the carriage, eyes closed for most of the journey as if she was asleep. The elder elf he assumed was from the city, but he couldn't be sure about the third. He could be another city elf, or he could, like Joel, merely have yet to earn his Vallaslin.

He wasn't sure what made him say it. Perhaps it was the oppressive weight of the silence that filled the carriage. Perhaps the ache for something familiar in this strange land of uncertainties, be it the words themselves or the language they were spoken in or even his own voice. Or maybe he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to live up to the Oath he had taken so faithfully every day and night, and some small part of him believed repeating the words would give him the strength to fulfill them. Regardless of the reason, on the third day he found himself murmuring, in elvish,

_"We are the last elvehn. Never again shall we submit."_

The others in the carriage looked at him uncomprehendingly (city elf, then) but there was a certain illicit thrill that filled his heart upon saying the words out loud for the first time since he had woken up caged. He had what little parts of his long-forgotten language had been passed down to him, and he had those words. A tiny act of rebellion, but it gave him hope, and he found a small smile on his lips for the first time in days.

Across the carriage from him, the Dalish had opened her eyes, and was casting the amber orbs over him appraisingly without moving any other part of her body. Her voice was immersed in a heavy accent when she spoke, a simple phrase in trade tongue that had an effect akin to suffocating that tiny warmth in his chest with a torrent of ice.

"Then you will die."

*****

It was dusk, but what little light still clung to relevance was blinding after three days spent in the dark. Joel was just relieved by the fresh breeze, after the stale air inside the carriage, permeated by an ever-present stench of perhaps every bodily fluid he could name making an appearance at one point or another with nowhere to go. The new brand on the small of his back stung painfully, and he had idly wondered if it was getting infected, before realising that he didn't actually care.

The other Dalish was led away quite quickly, and despite Joel's initial relief upon seeing another who would share his own culture he found himself equally relieved to see her go. She had given up, had already submitted, and he needed to believe that wasn't the only option he had left to him. Needed to know he could remain true to himself, and his clan, no matter what happened next.

Thinking of his clan even indirectly brought to him a keen yearning to see his father again, and he swallowed it down painfully, trying to think of anything else as he was led to another cage and pushed roughly (and entirely unnecessarily) inside, along with the older city elf and the young human child, the others exchanged to the same men for laughter and coins. The elf sat stiffly in the corner, clearly struggling to stand for too long, and after a while the little girl hesitantly joined him, and he began softly telling her what sounded like childrens' stories he'd heard told in his alienage.

Joel didn't sit.

He was weak with hunger, it was true, and tired, but at the same time restless. He wasn't meant to be cooped up or caged, he longed for the forests or the plains or the mountains or anywhere that didn't have bars keeping him from everything he knew and cared for.

Instead of sitting or resting, Joel paced. He stalked back and forth in the confined space of the cage, and he watched the outside world with little to no understanding. 

He had never been in a city before. That idea was too big, too overwhelming on top of everything else that was happening, so he shied away from it, instead focusing closer to his cage.

There were others. Other cages. His was unique in that only the three of them were within. In the others there were many more, packed in tightly together with not even enough space to stand, let alone move or sit or do anything more. The thought alone made breathing difficult.

What scared him the most, however, were the listless, despondent looks in their eyes whenever he could see them. Like the Dalish elf from before they had submitted. Were so far along they no longer remembered that there had been another way, if they had known one to begin with. 

How long before he lost himself like that, he wondered.

He didn't even want to think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually all I've got written on paper...  
> Meaning it will be a while before I get anything else up (I know it took me a long time to get this part up and I apologise, I didn't realise what I had was enough to make up a full chapter)

**Author's Note:**

> *Banal'ras - Shadow (according to the wiki)
> 
> Don't believe it's ever said which other clan the new halla were supposed to be coming from, nor which clan Mahariel's mother was originally from. So because all of my characters are related and stuff *boots in Clan Lavellan*. I imagine Kael likes to flit between the two clans after the events of Origins, and Elric is probably one of the few people who he stays in contact with after disappearing, while Zev just follows him around. We don't get much of a background on Clan Lavellan either beyond that they hang around the Free Marches a lot, so why not?  
> Believe it or not, Elric is actually good at finding people. He does look for Joel. I'm just not including that here.
> 
> I've seen a couple of slave Lavellan fics floating around but never actually read any. I might at some point go and look them up again, but only after I've finished writing this (so probably years from now if this ever gets finished).


End file.
